Page 91 of Wyoming Heart

“Amazing,” came the reply. “I’d love to meet her.”

“But you can,” the other woman said. “She’ll be signing books at the Silver Bookmark, here in the city in a couple of weeks on an author’s tour!”

“She will? I’ll mark it on my calendar.”

“I can’t wait,” came the reply. The women moved away and Cort shook his head. He was lucky to be married to a woman who just wanted to knit and raise babies, not some wild-eyed author who risked her life for a story and went on tour to sell books. He wondered if the mysterious Willow Shane even had a home life. And she was a rancher? How the hell could she run a ranch and be on the road all the time, he wondered.

Well, it wasn’t his problem. He looked at his watch. He was ready to go back to the hotel and pack. With any luck, barring any further problems, he could fly home in the morning. He’d missed Mina. He recalled their one long, sweet session in bed and looked forward to more of them.

Of course, there was the morning sickness. He knew she was having a hard time right now. But he could hold her all night, even if she didn’t feel up to intimacy. He thought about the baby and smiled. What a happy difference Mina had made in his life already. He felt sorry for his father, who’d thrown away his own chance for happiness with the reporter from Vermont. Maybe someday the older man would stop philandering and really settle down. He didn’t know what he was missing.

MINAWASGLUEDto her chair in front of the bank of camera monitors in the spare bedroom, with Sandra sitting in a chair beside her. Neither woman wanted to miss the confrontation. It was going to be epic; she just knew it.

“This is so exciting,” Sandra confided. “I haven’t been a reporter for several years. I miss it terribly. Those adrenaline rushes are hard to give up.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” She sighed. “I’m going to be stuck at home for the immediate future. I really can’t go out with the guys when I’m pregnant.”

Sandra patted her hand. “This is almost as good,” she said, indicating the monitors. “Oh, look!”

As she spoke, a small group of men in military gear, holding what looked like automatic weapons, passed by the cameras. There was both night vision and sound, so what they said was audible. They were speaking in Spanish, in terse, angry voices. Fortunately they weren’t rattling off like some people did, so that Mina understood almost every word. What she heard chilled her blood.

“They’re talking about the ranch house,” she said to Sandra, and her face went pale. “Two of them want ransom...!”

“Your guys are out there. They’ll shut them down,” Sandra began.

“You don’t understand,” Mina said urgently. “There are two groups! One isn’t associated with the smugglers. It’s run by two men who separated from the others and just want hostages. It’s a big ranch and they know that wealthy people live here. They think it’s easy money, compared to running drugs!”

Even as she spoke, she heard the front door open violently. Mina ran to the closet and unpacked her .45. She grabbed the full clip and shot it home into the gun and cocked it. She hoped against hope that one of the commandos was monitoring the audio from those cameras, so they’d know Mina and the others were in danger. But she couldn’t count on being rescued.

“Get behind me,” she told Sandra, and suddenly she was someone else. She was Willow Shane to the teeth.

Sandra didn’t argue. She did what she was told.

Mina went stealthily to the door. She wanted to call to Vic, who’d gone into his room to watch TV, and tell him not to move. She looked over her shoulder and saw Sandra texting furiously. Sandra looked up and nodded. Mina nodded, too. Obviously the women had the same thought.

There were muttered discussions of who would remain downstairs and who would look for somebody to hold hostage. This was a big rich house. Whoever lived here would pay and pay well for anyone they could snatch. They sounded bombed out of their minds, Mina realized. That would make this harder. You couldn’t really reason with someone whose brains were on vacation. Her hand tightened on the .45. Her mouth was dry. Her palms were damp. She laughed inwardly at those visible signs of fear. But fear was only a symptom. It needed control, and the guys had taught it to her. She moved closer to the door.

Footsteps sounded on the soft carpet. She closed her eyes and listened. Only one person, she surmised. Just one.

The man was trying to walk stealthily, but it wasn’t working. Mina heard him. She had to act before Vic decided to yield to his protective instincts and pop his head out of his room. It would most likely be immediately fatal.

So she moved out into the hall in an athletic stance, legs apart, knees bent, facing the target, shoulders in front of the hips. It was perfect for recoil management and firing fast follow-up shots if necessary. The target was a small, uniformed man with a smirk on his face.

“Ah, so you have a gun,” he said in accented English. “I have one, too. Let me show you how easily I can shoot it...!” He brought the pistol up, and his eyes signaled that he meant to shoot her.

She shot him in the knee before he could pull the trigger. He cried out harshly, but before he could raise his gun, she jumped forward and kicked the gun out of his hand.

“¡Alto!”she said.“Si le gusta continuar con su vida, no mueve.”Her eyes, over the barrel of the gun, were cold as ice.

The downed man, obviously not in a hurry to die, complied with her request and lay still, groaning. Sandra almost clapped.

Vic came out into the hall, shocked when he saw the man on the floor and Mina standing over him beside Sandra.

Just as he started to speak, a second man came flying up the stairs with his gun leveled, but he never got a chance to use it. A bullet found him first. He stopped, made a half turn and fell down the steps groaning.

Ry came in the door, almost panting. It had been a very rushed trip back and he’d run all the way from the truck in the driveway up the steps.

“Are you guys okay?” he asked at once.

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